“The palace of Count Ville-Handry was sold last week. This magnificent
building, with the princely real estate belonging to it, was knocked
down to the highest bidder for the sum of one hundred and seventy-five
thousand dollars. The misfortune is, that house and lot are burdened
with mortgages, which amount together to nearly a hundred thousand
dollars.”
Henrietta was overcome, and had sunk into a chair.
“But that is simply infamous,” she stammered out in an almost inaudible
tone. “Nobody will believe such atrocious libels.”
Pale and deeply grieved, Papa Ravinet and his sister exchanged looks of
distress. Evidently the poor girl did not at all realize the terrible
nature of the circumstances. And yet, seeing her thus crushed, they did
not dare to enlighten her. At last the old dealer, knowing but too
well that uncertainty is more agonizing than the most painful reality,
said,--
“Your father is fearfully calumniated. But I have tried to inform
myself. Two facts are but too certain. Count Ville-Handry is ruined; and
the shares of the company of which he is the president have fallen to
five dollars, because”--